
PARF^lSl 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 




Shelf ./..i/:?f-S 

UxNITED STATES OF AMERIC. 



V 



I 



THE 



WESTERN WANDERER. 



OMBRA. 



RICHARD P. PARRISH. 



Copyright, 1883, by Richard P. Parrish. 






i5-7^'t; ■^- 



NEW YORK: 

WM. L. ALLISON, Publisher. 



iZ-^c^-^^ 



1888. 

6-» 



T^^ 



^V 



The Western Wanderer. 



THE WESTERN WINDERER. 



I lay at night upon the breast of earth, 

Where the heart of Nature beateth slow and strong, 

While shone the moon among the stately trees, 

And the river, solemnly beyond them ran. 

Thfire was a voice in each and all of these ; 

There were sad strains in every murmur heard ! 

The silent pool had its own melody 

Of sorrow ; and the melancholy owl 

But spake what was in all the air around ! 

It was the sad voice of Nature, speaking 

In long forgotten tongues unto deaf ears : 

While far the unending clash and clamor. 

The glare of furnace, and the fiery smoke. 

The shriek of engine, and the ceaseless hum 

That marks the crowded city, and its poor, 

Did violate the sanctity of night. 

All said : " Beauty is fled the Earth ! The streams 

Run foul and colored with the factory's dye ! 

Where once unbidden sprang the forest trees, 

Now rage the saw-mills, and the chattering steam 

Drives far the antlered herd, and mocks and jeers 

The silent poetry of Nature's mood. 

On every hand is heard discordant jar ! 

The works of man obtrude. Not formed on lines 

Such as did guide the Hand that fashioned lakes. 



b THE WESTEBN WANDEREB. 

And winding streams, and mountains' awful front ; 

But in symmetric ugliness and glare of paint. 

Man dare not turn liis face toward the skies ; 

He fills his buildings full of lurid light, 

Lest looking up he see the silent stars, 

And their calm lesson sink into his soul 

To mock his work, and all his hopes make vain." 



Then I rose and said : " I will wander far 

Where mountain waters sparkle and gleam, 

Where wild deer dread not the creature man, 

And birds without the fear of hunter sing. 

I will go to the oldest land on earth. 

To the wild bleak West and its endless plains ; 

Where the air is untainted by human breath. 

And noise of human movement all unknown. 

There is the tramping of the unshod hoof, 

Tjiere sweeps the wind unchecked through canyons 

wild. 
There sounds the voice of Nature in the wood, 
There reigneth she in beauty undefiled." 



THE WESTERN WANDERER. 



Away ! Away ! The partings all are o'er ! 

The engine gives the signal of its flight ; 
The trembling bridge reverberates the roar ; 

The placid Schuylkill flashes back the light ; 
The city slowly fades into the night, 

And trees and fields appear upon the view, 
While in the distance looming on the sight, 

The Alleghenies' outlines take the hue 

Of soul that unto home hath bade a long adieu. 



II. 

Home ! Love ! Friends ! They are but varying tunes 
On the same heart-strings, o'er and o'er new played, 

Yet changing little as ensuing moons, 

Although through peons long their force has staid : 

Strong were they when the Trojan, undismayed, 
With battle cry for home the sortie led ; 

Strong in the Crofter with his cot low-laid ; 

And now the eyes are turned with bended head. 
Lest other eyes perceive, and mock the tears they 
shed. 

IIL 

But such emotions stay not with us long. 
For the mind works as works its living age, 

And analyzes all its feelings strong 

As foes that with its Reason do engage, 



8 THE WESTERN WANDERER. 

Seeking to cloud its clear conclusions sage : 
For heart and mind are never in accord ; 

The one doth 'gainst the other ceaseless rage, 
And Thought is trammeled as by tangled cord, 
And held from the high places where its dreams 
have soared. 



IV. 

But who to his own self for thought would turn ? 

When all around him lofty mountains tower ; 
Weak are the fires that in his being burn 

Beside these emblems of volcanic power. 
But see although now strikes the midnight hour 

The Cambria works are running in full blast, 
And glaring furnace causes eye to cower, 

While men the molten metal handle fast — 

Till in its destined mould the expanding liquid's cast. 



V. 

I wonder if those toilers slaving there, 

Working long hours, by day, and oft by night, 

Ever consider what is labor's share 

In all the great things it has brought to light. 

It is a scene for smiling cynic's sight, 

For here some thousand able-bodied men 

Work and ne'er cease, in grimiuess bedight. 
And all that presidents of ease may ken. 
And wealthy stockholders small dividends condemn. 



THE WESTERN WANDERER. 

VI. 

Kent of the laborer's wages takes large share, 
And that unto the land-owner returns ; 

Whence with composure he all strikes can bear, 
And arbitrating boards with coolnes^s spurns ! 

Long time 'twill be before the work-slave learns 
To wield the sword of his antagonist, 

And force by lack of funds his foe to terms. 
For of all warfare money is the gist 
And he who has the most the last is to desist. 



VII. 

For now 'tis "Fraud not Force " that rules the world ! 

By Fraud the whip still hangs above the slave ! 
By Fraud is Honesty from high place hurled ! 

By Fraud the country's land our Congress gave ! 
Fraud in the White House ! In the Senate grave ! 

In Pulpit ! Woman ! In our friend's right hand ! 
Surely the Gfod we worship is all knave 

When thus corruption spreads throughout a land ! 

And sneers proclaim the ship of state by rascals 
manned. 

VIII. 

What will the future Tacitus inscribe 

When he to write our country's history comes ? 

Will the tale read like some long diatribe 
On Christians, and their Doctrine as it runs ? 



10 THE WESTERN WANDERER. 

We cannot show to future ages' sons 
A nation -working for a nation's good ; 

But we can show in easily reckoned sums 

How half the world in pleasant mansions stood, 
While the rest worked and starved in outside soli- 
tude. 

IX. 

But with the breaking morn the slackening train 

Stops at a city rightly prenamed Pitt, 
For storms and thunders of an infernal plain 

Were balmy sunshine when compared to it. 
Here crowned the Queen of Industry doth sit ! 

The horrid noise is music to her ears ! 
The bended back of workmen homage fit — 

The furnace heat dries on their cheek the tears ! 

They are but slaves, not men with human hopes and 
fears. 

X. 

There is no beauty ever in their lives, . 

They nothing know but sordid, changeless days 
In the dull tenements of human hives. 

For them Art never sheds its bounteous rays. 
For them unsung are all the Poets' lays ! 

They stand vast, dumb, and piteous in the way ; 
Looking upon the world with misty gaze ! 

Waiting till Time their ignorance shall slay, 

That they may know their wrongs — to right them — 
act, not pray. 



THE WESTEKN WANDERER. 11 

XI. 

Across Ohio, dowu the fertile slope 
To where the Mississippi's waters flow 

Sullenly southward with its banks to cope, 
Ere to the Gulf's warm billows it doth go. 

I wonder if a sorrow thou didst know 

When thou didst quench that life so strong and fair, 

That as thou art 'mong mighty waters, so 

Was he among pure patriots — Francis Meagher — 
Fit prototype for those whom now his land doth bear. 



XII. 

Parnell ! McCarthy ! Davitt ! Mayhap yet 

Your counsels a free Ireland shall control, 
When British Tory's sun of power is set. 

And waves of retribution o'er them roll. 
And Lords and Bishops go, when at the poll 

The people show their Democratic will ; 
While Tennyson doth driveling stanzas dole 

On Progress being fraught with human ill ! 

Thinking with such dull steel mankind's impulse to 
kill. 

xni. 

St. Louis ! Angled ; dirty ; red and bare : 
As are all cities in our prosperous home ; 

So if for beauteous things to long we dare 
We must afar in classic countries roam. 



12 THE WESTERN WANDEEEB. 

For Use compared with Art is fertile loam 
Beside dry desert sand. This is our creed ! 

So blocks of brick, varied perhaps by dome 
Of City Hall, supply our business need — 
Forgetting souls must starve or lovely things must 
heed. 

XIV. 

But heed of beauty taketh precious time, 
And time is money in exchange and mart ; 

"We may not pause to list to Poet's rhyme, 
Nor follow the sweet impulse of the heart 

To turn to fields and harvest-times, and part 
With city streets for leafy lanes and flowers. 

No ; rather wed some bonded town Astarte, 
And live in fi-escoed rooms and stucco bowers 
Where ideals pale and fade, and moral death soon 
lowers. 



XV. 

We have no time for dreaming in our life, 
Moloch's a god of movement and unrest. 

Beverie floes fi-om the tumultuous strife. 

Where our best days are lost at gold's behest. 

Influence of sunrise, of the moontime blest. 

Gay noon and shadowed eve, leave now no trace 

Of benison on us. As unbidden guest 

At banquet strange are we, when face to face 
With solitude we stand, and see self poor and base. 



THE WESTERN WANDERER. 13 

XVI. 

For the soul sickens when in moments rare, 

It sees itself unrolled and unadorned ! 
When all its quivering secrets are laid bare, 

And noble things are shown despised and scorned. 
Oh ! who can think and yet not weep ? Suborned 

Are present and the future by the past ! 
And he who once for his own deed has mourned 

Must mourn through all his life until the last. 

'Tis sad ! Yet in such mold is human nature cast. 

xvn. 

Society's a cancer rank and foul, 

Yet covered by a seeming healthy skin, 

From whence ooze humours that 'mong all men prowl 
And bear the names of wickedness and sin ! 

These with the Genesis of States came in. 
And while we stand aghast at them to-day, 

We stop our ears against their furious din, 
And for their cure from pulpit at them bray, 
Or like poor helpless fools fall on our knees and 
pray. 

xvni. 

Kansas has tried these things in part to cure, 

But uselessly, for rotten is the core ! 
And tho' as evil liquor doth endure, 

'Tis but as part of one vast putrid sore 



14 THE "WESTEBN WANDERER. 

That defies patcliing and part healing. For 

Salve will but fret what needs the surgeon's knife. 

xlbolish poTerty, and crime will be no more, 
And all old ills with which the earth is rife 
Will vanish in that past that brought them into life. 



XIX. 

The way is pointed out by Henry George, 

Whose words are heard with no uncertain sound — 
Whereat Conservatives have rising gorge — 

But to his lasting fame do they redound, 
For he fi-om truth some shackles has unbound ; 

And stands to-day with mind calm, wise, and keen, 
The greatest writer that the age has found 

On sociology and laws terrene. 

Long may he live and teach to ill-got wealth's 
chagrin ! 

XX. 

But now appear the billowed prairies vast ! 

Molded by waves of oceans aeons dead ; 
They sti'etch to north and south, until at last 

Into the distant skies their wastes seem fled. 
O'er them no tree its branching shade has spread, 

Nor wild flower gi-own beside a purling stream ; 
Their former herds from man and gun have sped, 

And they in loneliness are left to dream. 

And though all shadowless, still full of mystery 
seem. 



•THE WESTEKN WANDEREK. 15 

XXI. 

One tiny tenant only do they house, 

Who, from his dug-out keepeth watch and ward, 
O'er guest and offspring, and his precious spouse. 

And o'er his wealth, some little grassy hoard. 
But he like man hath skeletons to board : 

For he his little household must divide 
With snake and owl, and food to them afford, 

Or from his young they soon would be supplied. 

Nature to e'en this lot has happiness denied. 

XXII. 

Fast flee the miles, behind the working steam. 
That mocks in movement Arab's boasted steed ; 

Fast till the land flies by like troubled dream ! 
Bearing me far from man and man's world creed ! 

Far from false preachers ! Far from crying need ! 
Far ! Far ! from Nature's calvary the Town ! 

On toward the mountains ! Slow seems swiftest speed 
To him who seeks reflections sad to drown. 
While night the dying day with glittering stars doth 
crown. 

xxm. 

Through the grand canyon of the Arkansas — 
The river bed a thousand feet below — 

The air is rarer and we feel the law, 
That things are finer as we higher go. 



16 THE WESTERN WANDERER. 

The gorge is past — the darkness done — and lo ! 
We stand in summer and in tropic heat — 

The Colorado town of Pueblo — 

But here alas! no tree the eye 4oth gi'eet, 

All's bare, and dull, and brown, as to the desert meet. 



XXIV. 

Again ascending, cold and snows appear, 

And warmth and light of lower climes depart. 
And I perceive my present goal draw near, 

And at the place debark with quiet heart. 
Here with machinery's aid I now must part. 

The saddle horse, the ass, must service lend ! 
Farewell to man and all his vaunted art. 

My needs to Nature's providence shall bend. 

And so a journey starts toward various lands to tend. 



XXV. 

Here a low vale by mighty mountains crowned, 
Nestles ten thousand feet above the sea ! 

And here a village small a site has found. 
For coal and silver in earth's bowels be. 

And now the spirit like a bird seems free, 

For he who breathes that joyous, hill-born air 

In light of perfect health doth all things see. 
And feels his thoughts, and soul grow pure and fair, 
And di-eams of noble things, and dangerous deeds 
doth dare. 



THE WESTERN WANDERER. 17 

XXYL 

But cold it is ! Cold as an arctic clime ! 

Cold in extreme as the near skies are blue ! 
Cold as the heart of all destroying Time, 

But still, as mountains it may not subdue. 
So still ! So calm ! It seemeth to imbue 

Each stretch of snow with sorrow not its own ; 
Giving to shadowed peak a sadness new — 

Dulling the light that to high bluffs had flown. 

As if their massiveness must undisturbed be shown. 



xxvn. 

Here, all unbidden, from the depths of soul 
Rises a voice to join in this grand psalm ! 

Unheard the echoes of the living roll 

Here, where the shadow of Creator's palm 

Is silence — That to earth doth aye give balm. 
But yet, ah ! woe, the soul doth soar in vain ! 

Too poor its being by this splendor calm ! 
Useless its upward striving and its pain, 
Too high the spirit here for it to e'er attain. 



xxvni. 

Oft have I watched the dawn oh ! Crested Butte, 
First on thy peak its laughing light display, 

Oft have I followed in the wild pursuit 
The deer around thy wooded base to slay. 



18 THE WESTERN WANDERER. 

And now beside thee I must pass to-day, 

Gliding on snow-shoes o'er each mounting drift, 

That I alone among the hills may pray 
To Mother Nature for my sad soul's shrift, 
And for the hour, through her, my cloud of care 
uplift. 

XXIX. 

Alone ! No life is here but wind-swayed pine ! 

Alone ! No sound of voice doth here obtrude ! 
The hills ! The air ! The distant slopes are mine, 

The vasty snows ! And this is solitude. 
Oh ! can the mind by such awe once subdued. 

Turn to the grandeurs that his kind create, 
Stand startled at a warring nation's feud. 

Or bow before the leader of a state ? — 

Oh ! Rocky Mounts ! Your shades must different tale 
relate. 

XXX. 

Ye are so far above the life of man. 

And speak no word his erring ways to guide ; 
Such stint beside you is his longest span 

Ye seem his highest aimings to deride, 
And mock, in wonder, things that him betide. 

Yet your sublimity doth lesson teach 
Of life's futility, of rant of pride ! 

Of vanity of doctrine that we preach ! 

Till unto you we turn, and might of thought beseech. 



THE WESTERN WANDERER. 19 



XXXI. 



The agonies of soul of all the world — 

The tears that in a thousand years are shed — 

The bitter curse from writhing heart out-hurled — 
The woe of those from whom all hope has fled — 

But fall upon you as on ears of dead ; 

The race of man might dying round you groan — 

The cloud of human sorrow o'er you spread — 
Still would your silence answer cry and moan, 
Still would the stars shine down upon your change- 
less stone. 

XXXII. 

But I must leave your shades, lest my heart grow 

Cold and unmoved as is your granite old. 
Lest I no more the joys of love should know ; 

Lest I should cease to count as wealth untold 
All that doth from my heart and feelings flow ; 
Yet I have dreamed, by these dark means, to go 

Unto the heights where power loometh grand ; 
Have thought to higher mental stature grow 

By disregard of every heart command. 

By sense contempt. By striving nature to withstand. 



XXXIII. 

Yet now, before thy highest throne appalled, 
"With spirit bowed, I turn away from thee, 

Back to that love by shining stars recalled. 
Back to dead days on wings of memory. 



20 THE WESTERN WANDERER. 

For with the hour come echoes unto me 

Of voice beloved, and heart by parting wrung. 

Ah, moon ! No fairer face e'er turned to thee, 
Nor ever lover more enraptured hung 
On accents more adored, when this last song was 
sung. 

Oh stars so far above us ! Oh white moon ! 

Your beams seem half to mock and half to love us, 
And vanish from our sight, too soon. 

Only the nights of life-time, to explore you ! 
Only in darkness to perceive your light ! 

Only in dreams approaching to adore you ! 
Only in death escaping from your sight ! 

Only to love your sweetest light down sending ! 
Only to sorrow giving hopeful ray ! 

Only at parting when our hearts are rending ! 
Your beams, through tears, seem dim and far away. 

XXXIV. 

The half heard voices and the soft sweet tunes. 

That form the strains of sylvan melody ; 
The stormy waters and the thunder's runes. 

Are but the epics of the things we see 
That through the passions, move humanity. 

Grief paints the autumn with its shades of woe, 
Love gives its glamour to the moon-lit sea, 

Anger but imitates volcanic throe — 

Thus through ourself, earth's child, earth ways and 
means we know. 



THE WESTERN WANDERER. 21 

- XXXV. 

In lower beings is the prototype 

Of all in us that's animal or base, 
While all that's noble, all by thought made ripe, 

Its trend through things inanimate must chase. 
But human power hath its highest place, 

In that it may all nature's laws defy, 
And live with unmoved soul, and changeless face. 

And hold the spirit o'er the self so high 

That mind may live and work, while sense doth 
seem to die. 

XXXVI. 

But now, approaching, comes the feeble gleam 
Of lamp, from my low cabin window sent. 

And soon the town in spots of light is seen, 
Where men are gathered upon pleasure bent. 

Pleasure ! For which are labor's earnings spent. 
They scarce know what they seek, but after fare 

Of weary toil with which long hours are blent. 

They know, that drunk, life seems less full of care. 
That moral anodynes in liquor buried are. 

XXXVII. 

Now, by the fire that in my shelter burns, 

Fast flee the dreams by mountain heights inspired, 

And unto man for thought reflection turns. 
And unto things by him the most desired. 



22 THE WESTERN WANDEREE. 

Awhile ago my verse by love was fired ; 

By love ! The ideal of the poet's theme ! 
By love ! The storm in robes of white attired ! 

By love ! That unto Antony did seem 

Higher than power ! Than ambition's kingly dream ! 



XXXVIII. 

And what is love? Is it a thing divine ? 

Has it high place in temple of the soul ? 
Is it to lust as sacramental wine 

To drink unblest? Has it o'er lust control? 
Is contact of the mind its only goal ? 

How may we answer? How may these things know ? 
It is enough that Reason should unroll 

Her scroll of Truths. We need no farther go, 

Thought, Intellect and Fact — all answer to us "No." 



XXXIX. 

Love is simply Nature's most potent law, 
Potent in man, in mollusk and in beaSt, 

A passion over-laden, yet sans flaw 

Since in degree on greatest, and on least 

It bears. In man, howe'er, it seems increased. 
For Nature's efforts all tend toward one thing 

The species' reproduction. So decreased 
In lower orders doth the impulse spring, 
While man in higher scale, his higher strength doth 
bring. 



THE WESTERN WANDERER. 23 

XL. 

This puts the woman lower than the man, 
For, though her actual passion is less strong, 

'Tis more tenacious, and for years it can 
Live as affection, when the man's is gone. 

And it will rule her reason e'en for wrong. 
Move woman's intellect you move her sense. 

And to the mover all her love doth throng. 
Move but her sense, and her soul's effluence 
Will seek as life's reward no higher recompense. 

XLI 

If love were ideal man's thoughts would not turn 
To contact of the lips, of breast to breast ; 

No ardent blood within his veins would burn, 
Nor find he joy in curling locks caressed. 

Nor pleasure in the hand in secret pressed. 
Love to be ideal would think naught of sex, 

'Twould be the dreams, by soul to soul expressed, 
Whence union that no thought of flesh should vex, 
A union to explore what doth the soul perplex. 



XLII. 

Love should be held as appetite, as sleep. 
No higher, and no lower, for its need. 

The human race alive on earth to keep. 
Is manifest ; it sows the future's seed. 



24 THE WESTERN WANDEREE. 

But in the words of Fancy it would plead 
For being as tlie child of Time and Death ; 

For Death must of Life's thinning ranks take heed 
Lest Time its ruler old unto it saith : — 
"With thy last human victim comes thy own last 
breath." 

XLin. 

Thus to the thinker, and the analyst 

Shows love. Thus after thought comes sneer, 

When men on origin divine insist — 

When on the grave of dead is dropped the tear — 

When lover gives up life for one held dear. 

Who reads men's minds doth fill his soul with scorn, 

Who writes of them, but half his scorn makes clear. 
He speaks to fools, who out of fools were born. 
And fails by Wisdom's light their darkness to adorn. 



XLIV. 

For we are fools, and not of merry mien. 

But with sad eyes and faces turned to earth ; 

Moaning in weakness o'er the might have been. 
And mourning at the woe that came at birth, 

And wondering dumbly at the lack of mirth. 
Yet still we place the matter o'er the mind. 

And, though we feel our spiritual dearth, 
Still to the light of Reason we are blind — 
Still worship we false Gods, by our ownselves de- 
signed. 



THE WESTEKN WANDEBEB. 25 

XLV. 

Still church and priest-craft o'er us hold their sway, 
Still in existence are there Popes and Kings, 

Still to a god of Bribes and Threats we pray, 
Still in our ear the sound of war oft rings ; 

Still we are barbarous ; Feudalism clings ; 

Still are we held in chains by dead men's rules — 

By Precedence — by what the Past us brings 
Of Law — of Faith — all the dull rusted tools 
Suited unto their hour — who reads but sigheth, 
"Fools." 

XLVI. 

From heights of thought, on ignorance looking down. 
Too oft the sneer usurps the place of tear ; 

Too oft when we should pity we but frown : 
And when results before us stand so clear 

We miss the cause, although the end we fear. 
For Poverty's the source of every crime 

And to it Ignorance is always near. 
To say end these, all duty doth define. 
And this should be life's work, not solely that of 
time. 

XLVII. 

When first the months, in warmer climes called Spring, 
Make breach in Winter's icicled stronghold ! 

When to the seed the sun doth impulse bring — 
When on its course the earth has half way rolled. 



26 THE WESTERN WANDERER. 

Then are my days 'mong Bocky Mountains told ; 
My face once more is turned toward the West ; 

Toward the land of tropic heat and gold, 
Toward the land of Ponce de Leon's quest 
For fount of youth, and for a sorrowless life-rest. 



XLVin. 

Through pine crowded canyons, tracing trails of snow, 
Judging the North by thickness of the bark, 

Noting where streams the crust did underflow, 
Or avalanche had left the mountain stark. 

List'ning to wolves' far heard halloo and hark ! 
Or to the tales from lips of miner guide, 

Who tall and tireless the faint way did mark. 
Moving his snow-shoes with long even stride. 
Showing the practiced strength, that storm and 
stretch defied. 

XLIX. 

"From yonder cabin near the mountain's crest, 
A woman once, to reach the town essayed. 

She bore an unweaned infant at her breast 

Whose weight, till after dark, her course delayed. 

When near her goal white wolves behind her bayed. 
And soon in numbers 'round her they attacked — 

In agony of fear she threw her babe — 

Escaped with screams some helping to attract — 
They lynched her where red snow by hairy feet was 
tracked." 



THE WESTERN WANDERER. 27 



Thus showed the guide tho' all unconsciously, 
That where the scenes of earthly grandeur are, 

There human life is full of tragedy, 

And faces 'mong the hills grow sterner far 

Than where no shade of rock doth valley mar. 
The black tailed deer as often fights as flies, 

The mountain lion any foe dare bar — 

Thus different climes to different states give rise, 
And nature buffets most what most she seems to 
prize. 

LI. 

Past Gunnison, and on o'er changeless miles, 
Till the Black Canyon's opening appears ; 

Darkest, most dreaded of the long defiles. 

Through which his course the Western traveler steers. 

And rightly he so journeying hath fears, 
For the tall rocks to frailest balance cling. 

And trickling water fast the ledges wears. 
So oft from shock of noise, of rifle ring. 
Huge masses fall from heights, and boulders down- 
ward spring. 

LII. 

Here rises stream that flows towards the South, 

Till with the Colorado it doth run. 
Through })archud lands of universal drought. 

To sink in caverns never lit by sun. 



28 THE WESTERN WANDERER. 

Its course we follow till the day is done, 
And then on rocky, desert land emerge, 

Whose arid waste e'en beast of prey doth shun. 
Whose very air seems sad with mournful dirge 
For some dead sea, that once o'er all this land did 
surge. 

Lni. 

In strange forms run the bluffs of serpentine, 
With vivid stripes the rocky miles are laid, 

And color varies every dry ravine, 

O'er which no tree has ever cast its shade. 

Nor ever bird of song within its precincts staid. 
The purpose of this land thought cannot show 

Nor can we dream why its hot wastes were made. 
For man doth think all nature's force doth flow 
That he, throughout his life, may more of comfort 
know. 

LIV. 

O'er many weary leagues this land extends, 

But industry can make it bloom again, 
Witness the fields where toiling Mormon bends. 

Once arid desert, now, aglow with grain : 
This region populous at last we gain. 

Through towns and villages our course we take. 
Till in the distance, rises high the fane. 

That looks down o'er the City of Salt Lake, 

That holds anomaly of Church that ruleth State. 



THE WESTERN WANDERER. 29 

LY. 

Strange problems liere doth human life present, 
For ignorance is led by selfish power ;. 

And men unto two task-masters assent, 

And doubly slaves beneath their lashes cower, 

For that fat hog the Church doth claim as dower 
The choicest tithe of Labor, and doth steal 

E'en from the intellect, its only flower 

Of independent thought, and men here kneel 
At word of lying chiefs, who never truths reveal. 



LYI. 

Still, though hooted at by Nation and by Sect, 
The Mormons have at least this favoring clause, 

That on the same foundation they erect 

Their Faith, as those who keep within the laws ; 

For all religions have the same primal cause — 
Desire for power — and this we only check 

When to itself too much of strength it draws. 
And holds too great a force at call and beck. 
And proudly thinks to cease of other force to reck. 



LYII. 

Too poor the thoughts inspired to linger here, 
When Nature beckons from her inland sea; 

And so once more the Western Wanderer 
Pursues his way along that weary lea, 



30 THE WESTERN WANDERER. 

From out whose crags and rocks hot steam spouts free, 
Although the water as the ice is cold : 

Thus Earth in sport doth mingle curiously 
The forces that seem often uncontrolled, 
That often o'er her breast in wildest strength have 
rolled. 

LVIIL 

More Salt thy waves oh Lake than human tears ! 

More drear thy wastes than any human life ! 
More dread thy distances than human fears ! 

More awful are thy storms than war-like strife ! 
And round thy shores the cloud-like fogs are rife, 

And on the lands, from whence the tides recede, 
The alkali has cut as with a knife, 

And left no sign of sea-grass or of reed, 

And even thy salt depths no fish or shell e'er breed. 



LIX. 

Beyond thee, still the land is grim and stern, 
No nourishment is brought by Winter snows, 

Nor summer heat doth vivifying burn, 

And everywhere unplanted sage bush grows ; 

One charm, one only, man to change it knows, 
For if we bring the irrigating stream 

Straightway the waste with greenest verdure glows, 
And impulse new appears in each sunbeam. 
And the land waxes fat with honey and with cream. 



THE WESTERN WANDERER. 31 

LX. 

Oh charm of travel ! Varying scenes 

To passing hours and unrecked miles succeed! 
Anon some cloud the distant hill-top screens, 

Anon its height from misty mass is freed, 
And shown the slopes where deer unstartled feed, — 

The thrill at sunrise and the saddened thought 
When the long lights at close of day recede — 

The tender blue with storm- chased cloud in- 
wrought — 

All in their beauteous youth are to the traveler 
brought. 

LXI. 

At Wells, again the land makes manifest. 

The mysteries that in its wastes exist, 
For here in place by rain-fall never blest 

Strange shadowy pools by the dry winds are kissed : 
But of their depth no man hath ever wist. 

And though they reach to buried unknown sea, 
The plummet from exploring doth desist. 

And science doth to easier problem flee. 

While tideless, changeless they! An unsolved 
mystery. 

LXII. 

The silent scene brings its own soul unrest. 

And weary question of life's destiny ! 
Till all but seems a hard and hopeless quest. 

And truth and beauty full of poverty ; 



32 THE WESTERN WANDERER. 

Since men create their actuality. 

For they are not as are the solar laws, 

But are the offspring of utility, 

Or else we call things ugly without cause 

For naught by earth produced is faulty or with flaws. 



LXIII. 

But yet perhaps there is another world, 

Which some day men will know and classify ; 

The World of Chemic Mind. And as unfurled 
Are secrets physical unto our eye, 

And as in gases three we now descry. 

The bases of all matter. So shall we trace 

The elements of mind ; and these apply 
Till we in matter life itself can place, 
Although a true creating be beyond our race. 



- LXIV. 

For as dead things decaying, fertilize, 
And render possible their future kind, 

So, by analogy, we may surmise 

That the same process also governs mind. 

And could we study we should doubtless find 
The laws that rule the spirit part of man 

Conform in other ways to those which bind 
Material, and have their sex and span 
Of Life, on like but widely separated plan. 



THE WESTERN WANDERER. 33 

LXV. 

The mind absorbed, the footsteps heedless go, 
And wander onwards with the wandering thought, 

Until at last appears the moon's mild glow, 
And to a halt the weary limbs are brought ; 

And way retraced, while the lost trail is sought ; 
In vain — and on the drifted snow is spread 

Grease-wood, and sage-bush with strong odor fraught. 
With rye grass placed for pillow at the head — 
For tired and hungry man a fit and easy bed. 

LXVI. 

Sweet dreams are his who supperless lies down. 

And bright the banquets that his eyes behold. 
Soft sensual zephyrs unto him are blown, 

And wine is poured from goblets all of gold : 
But here the wind blows strong and bitter cold ; 

And limbs, unrested rise before the dawn. 
And like a man within an hour grown old, 

I rise and aimlessly go seeking on 

For the lost Wells from whence so lately I had gone. 

LXVII. 

But uselessly, and when the night returns, 

The soul sees death approaching with the hours, 

And fear the child of Sense, the mind o'erturns ; 
Until the Reason proudly o'er it towers, 



34 THE WESTERN WANDERER. 

And brings to Life's last problem all its powers, 
And turns to dissolution with high scorn, 

Since it is part of that unknown that lowers 
About existence ere we yet are born, 
And whence we come and go, yet at that going 
mourn. 

LXVIII. 

The day shall come, in some far distant time. 

When knowledge and not wealth, men will pursue, 

When all our aims toward higher things will climb, 
Upon the wisdoms that to years accrue ; 

Till knowing all that the past ever knew. 
And all that men may ever hope to know. 

The mind will seek new realms of thought to view. 
And, for that reason strike itself the blow 
That gives a chance to find from what force life doth 
flow. 

LXIX. 

But when fatigue and hunger death precede 
The mind in its own mazes soon is lost, 

And in this madness present things recede. 
And to the Past the memories' waves are tost ; 

And all, in other times desired the most, 
Comes fitfully across the vision sad. 

And friends once loved, a distant happy host, 

Once more make rooms resound with laughter glad, 
And face of maid appears — the first love of a lad. 



THE WESTERN WANDERER. 35 

LXX. 

Thou art not cold, oh Death, as thou art famed ! 

Thy breath is felt-when the keen winds grow warm ! 
The blessed hour thy coming should be named, 

That sees us in thy bosom safe from harm! 
And far from men and all that men alarm ! 

From the vexed questions of the mind and soul ! 
From the Despairs that energies disarm ! 

From Thought and Thought's reward, a meagre dole ! 

And from the poor, sad joys, with which we time 
cajole. 

LXXI. 

Sweet is that sleep that comes from snow-capped 
mountains, 

Borne on the wings of Rest that hath no end. 
Sweet are the murmurs of the trees and fountains, 

That with its dreams in cloud-like cadence blend. 
And soft the stroke which at the last doth rend 

The human spirit from the human clay. 
The stars a last faint glimmering down send — 

The mind's last thought is wonder at their ray — 

And then a lifeless shape in the cold shadows lay. 



Lxxn. 

Oft shall the spirit, in the days to come, 
Grown weary with the burden of the years, 

Turn to that hour, when it seemed life was done, 
And wish in very truth that all its fears, 



36 THE WESTERN WANDERER. 

And work, and woe, and happiness and tears, 
Had there had end, and it had been resolved, 

Into that force which all unfathomed steers 
Its strength that man and life may be evolved ; 
And whence if Death hath mystery, that mystery 
may be solved. 



LXXIII. 

But it was not to be ! The eyes unclose 

On walls of adobe in cabin small, 
Where on rude hearth a brush-fire slowly glows. 

Throwing its shadows on a figure tall. 
Who ever and anon strange words let fall. 

Until at last in a low musing song. 
He seemed himself from reverie to recall, 

And as he sang his voice rang loud and strong, 

In this vain dream of Time when Reason crushes 
wrong. 

No more shall man, to fellow-man 

The right to life denying, 
Absorb the soil that gives that life ; 

All nature's laws defying. 

No more shall sweat on toiling brow 
The jewel of monarch brighten ; 

No more shall majesty of Church 
The weak and ignorant frighten. 



THE WESTERN WANDERER. 37 

No more shall stand an angry God 

With sword of the Hereafter ; 
No more look down a pallid Christ 

To check earth's joy and laughter. 

No more shall come, from garret drear, 

The sound of hunger crying ; 
No more shall Mother shed a tear 

O'er- infant starved and dying. 

No more the sound of drum and fife, 

Shall time the musket's rattle ; 
No more shall soldier give up life 

To win Ambition's battle. 

No more shall men, in fight for bread. 

To crime and wrong be driven. 
No more shall charity degrade 

Who takes, and who hath given. 

No more shall come o'er undrained lands 

The blighting breath of fever ; 
No more shall woman raise her hands 

To cry against deceiver. 

No more shall she who yields to love 

Despite priest's institution. 
Be hurled by laws of sinful world 

To ranks of Prostitution. 



38 THE WESTEBN WAITDEREE. 

No more shall Work to Time lay claim 

When forces in subjection, 
Shall minister to daily needs, 

With naught save man's direction. 

But all of Thought to Thought shall turn, 
All meaner things despising ; 

And the Soul's fire shall flame and burn. 
To undreamt heights arising. 



LXXIV. 

In that sad silence after song ensuing, 

When the soothed air still laden with the sound, 

With the songs' thought the dreams inspired im- 
bruing — 
We watched the fire glows sinking and rebound ; 

And searcher in our hearts might then have found 
The longing for that ideal, old as man, 

Of perfect life,' by perfect justice crowned, 
Of earth relieved from every wrong and ban, 
And Reason over all asserting right to plan. 



LXXV. 

Strange fate it was that gave this unknown host. 
Who rescuing from death had brought me hence, 

Yet now oblivious in his dreams was lost, 
As one who oft the skyey land frequents, 



THE WESTEEN WANDERER. 39 

And thus for life finds almost recompense : 
And so scarce speaking many days we spent, 

The arid land supplying subsistence, 
From which each turned to follow his own bent, 
Nor ever word exchanged with which no thought 
was blent. 

LXXVI. 

Our spirits grew as calm and still as those, 
That find in caverned canyons their abode. 

And e'en the countenance the influence shows, 
Of airs that late o'er highest mountains rode. 

And oft at eve when homeward paths we strode 
The sunset fell upon us glorifying 

Into new beauty, by its light bestowed, 

The common things that round our feet were lying, 
That unidealed by this, for notice vain were striving. 



LXXVII. 

But the hour came when we two fain would part, 
Man may not be with man and great thoughts think ! 

Too seldom comes into the human heart 
The spirit of the Earth, for it to link 

With other, adoration, or to drink 

Companioned at the fount that overflows 

When, unto man, the sunlight seems to sink, 
And beauty in bewildering color shows. 
And ideals take a form and shape in sunset glows. 



40 THE WESTEKN WANDERER. 

Lxxvin. 

On Buch an eve from summit of high hill, 

We watched the light o'er all the land down-rain, 
While in our pulses the responsive thrill 

Showed the heart's answering to mental pain. 
Of life and things that follow in its train, 

Of subtle wrongs to which men ne'er awake, 
Of crying ills that governments disdain, 

We talked, and as the day its fading shades did 
make 

He turned toward the West, and these last words he 
:e: — 

LXXIX. 

"Te have dreamed your dreams, oh poets in past 
times 

Of world o'er-ruled by universal love, 
Have sung of love in many tuned rhymes. 

And held it far all other things above ! 
Nor ever higher did your fancy rove — 

I dream of world where love shall have no place. 
Where all emotions that task masters prove, 

Shall shrink in Reason's light and leave no trace, 

While Reason lives as guide of a new human race. 



THE WESTEBN WANDERER. 41 

LXXX. 

" Go forth oh youth ! Into the fight for gold, 

Learn of thy kind and then come back to me 
Here in the shadows of the mountains old, 

Here in the heart of Nature's mystery, — 
Then shall great thoughts come once more back to 
thee. 

And thou shalt feel the spirit of great Time, 
And all thy musings turn to Poetry, 

And in thy words still linger touch of rhyme. 

Farewell ! " And through the shades he higher hill 
did climb. 

August 9, 1887. 



OMBRA. 



OMBRA. 



Bright shines the moon on Ombra's halls, 

And gay the music in the walls ! 

For now the chief triumphant reigns, 

And his opposer lies in chains. 

Long was the struggle ; the kingdom racked, 

Towns pillaged, and the cities sacked : 

Famine and woe, and plenty's wane. 

And all that marks red war's domain 

Th© weary country felt. But now 

Unclouded was the monarch's brow. 

Beneath his scepter wise and free, 

Came back the old prosperity ; 

And in his coffers glittered cold. 

The people's gladly yielded gold. 

And so this night with bounteous hand, 

He feasts the nobles of the land ; 

While unto serfs the mandate given, 



46 OMBRA. 

Had brouglit, from every clime 'neath heaven, 

The fairest forms whose looks could move 

To passion's ecstacy or love. 

For wily Ombra's thoughts designed 

That these soft instruments should wind 

A serpent's coil for him, and bend 

All that could power to him lend. 

But through the wide halls stretching far 

The guests unconscious scattered are ; 

And each among the scented bowers 

Thinks not of time's fast fleeting hours : 

That pleasure in an instant's past. 

And only sweet while it doth last. 

For music played that stirred the soul, 

And all around did softly roll 

In rhythmic cadence like the chime 

Of vespers in a far off clime, 

That moves us unto thoughts of home. 

And makes us weary as we roam. 

The heart is stirred by sounds like these, 

That bring a longing for the ease 

Of lying in a passion's thrall. 

The past forgot, the present all. 

And perfumes floated in the air, 

Whose redolence, beyond compare. 

Like odors from the shores of Ind 



OMBEA. 47 

Borne on a dying western wind, 
Swam about the rooms superb, 
The offerings of flower and herb, 
A banquet was whose splendor seemed 
Such as the eastern Magi dreamed 
When their visions rapt descried the prize 
The faithful hold in Paradise. 
But softer far than that impulse. 
Which from the sense's joy results, 
Was the beauty of the maidens there. 
Whose eyes of sloe and raven hair, 
Formed pictures that were fair as night 
Of tropic skies. And as the light 
Falls on their faces, it reveals 
Beauty that Circassian fields. 
And Georgian lands, and far Cathay, 
Had nurtured till the wished for day 
Made them the minion of his arms 
Who paid the highest for their charms. 
But now on ottomans they lie. 

Their forms half bared unto the eye 

The guests of Ombra walked between, 

And in their eyes a subtle gleam 

Marks with what ease such sights are seen. 

But he, the giver of the feast. 

Walks alone where the lights are least, 



48 OHBRA. 

And views tliem with an eye askance, 

And meaning in his darkling glance. 

For well he knew the race of men 

That came within his eagle ken ; 

And thus by chains of love he sought 

To bind the power gold had not bought. 

So now apart with eager mien, 

He watched the progress of his scheme : 

And some he saw who whispered vows, 

And some sought concubine or spouse. 

Charmed by the laxity of laws 

That seldom an assemblage draws 

Of women, whom the harems keep 

Immured in almost life-long sleep. 

But all drank in like opiate, 

The pleasures which seemed ne'er to sate ; 

Of music, beauty, love and wine, 

And revelry and death of time. 

But Ombra looking on meanwhile. 

Said half aloud, with bitter smile : 

"Ay fools ! Fill high the brimming bowl. 

Your sense shall ever lead your soul. 

Though better ruler 'tis to be 

Than bow abject to sovereignty, 

E'en poor to me it seems to reign 

When such as ye bring up the train." 



OMBRA. 49 

He turned to where alone there lay, 

The loveliest being of the day ; 

Zala, from all the rest reserved, 

As by the royal hand deserved. 

Ah ! she was fair as naught can tell ! 

The fairness of the light gazelle : 

The sparkling hues of fleet sunrise 

Were prisoned in her beaming eyes, 

While on her cheek the hue of rose 

Vied with the white of Alpine snows 

That rested on her bosom there 

As soft as perfumes rest in air. 

Alone unto the feast she came, 

Her beauty was her only claim. 

None knew what hand had grasped the gold 

That made her unto Ombra sold. 

But now in wondrous joy she reigned 

And retrospection seemed disdained : 

For see the Nautch girls enter slow, 

With cymbals sounding as they go, 

The lulling motion of their dancing 

All the spirit's sense entrancing ; 

While from their lips there upwards rung 

The saddening accents of the tongue 

That speaks the world's philosophy, 

To drink, to love, forget and die. 



50 OMBEA. 



The Nautch Girls' Song. 

Love and sleep ! 

Oh ! Love and sleep ! 
And let things pass you by ! 

Love and sleep ! 

Oh ! Love and sleep 
For soon we all must die. 

Life is never sweet 
And woe and sorrow reign, 

But here, ah here, we meet 
To snatch a reprieve from pain . . , 

Drink of the glowing wine, 
Lure love, and with weeping away ; 

Never ! oh never repine, 
And life shall be as a day . . . 

Drink and love ! 

Oh ! Drink and love ! 
For our hearts are beating ! 

Drink and love ! 

Oh ! Drink and love ! 
For time is ever fleeting ! 



OMBBA. 



51 



Sad the strains, and the witching tones 

Wandered e'en to the marble domes, 

And echo lent them a mournful ring 

That fell as the voices ceased to sing. 

A moment then all sounds were hushed, 

But soon again to feast they rushed : 

And laughter was, and merry glee 

That seemed like fiendish revelry. 

The hours sped on unrecked, unwept, 

Yet still the gorgeous orgie kept. 

And the night had kissed the brows of day 

Ere all were done or gone away. 

But sleep comes soon to drunken eyes, 

And e'er was o'er the glad sunrise 

They slumbered fast, but their repose 

Was old ere Ombra to his goes. 

By secret passages unknown 

He seeks the castle depths alone ! 

And opens half a massive door 

With bolts and rivets studded o'er. 

There in a dungeon dark and deep 

Glitters an eye that cannot sleep. 

With limbs whose every movement clank 

The link'd iron, cold and dank. 

•' Ha, Herdric sleepest ! " Ombra cried. 

And stood the prisoner beside. 



62 OMBRA. 

The captive slowly raised his head 

From the foul straw that formed his bed ; 

Upon his face a look of woe, 

And suffering such as few may know. 

" Grant but the thing I ask of thee, 

And from thy chains thou goest free 

To hold a place beneath my hand 

Amidst the noblest of the land." 

On Herdric's brow the withering scorn 

Was dark as air beneath the storm. 

" Stoops the eagle to be the serf 

Of the worm that crawleth beneath the turf ; 

And thinkest thou I'd bow to thee 

'Mid all thy craven minstrelsy ? 

Thou ! pampered minion of my race ! 

I see thee quail. Here, tho' face to face 

In this lone prison cell we stand, 

'Gainst me thou darest not lift thy hand. 

And thinkest that to such as thou, 

A traitor kinsman, I would bow. 

No ! seek to be lord of wind and sea, 

But ne'er seek servitude of me ! " 

He ceased, and Ombra stood and gazed 

As one by sudden stunning dazed. 

Then bent and hissed into his ear 

Swift words so low that none might hear ; 



OMBRA. 

But Herdric's cheek is blanched with fear, 

That cheek which never fear had shown 

Save for weal other than his own. 

But now the doors are closed again, 

And Ombra leaves him in his pain ; 

And the steps die in the upper halls, 

And silence is within the walls. 

But Herdric, restless, turns and turns. 

And his soul within him ceaseless burns ; 

For nothing else is like the' woe 

That feels the dragging minutes go. 

While chained to mass inanimate 

That cares not for our love or hate. 

We wail our fate, and make the moan 

That all forget us as alone 

We drag along our weary course. 

With the past alone, and with remorse. 

Ah ! better aid a doomed cause. 

Ah ! better fight 'gainst righteous laws. 

Or live in vilest poverty, 

Than as a prisoner to be. 

For him ne'er comes the glad sunrise, 

For him no season lives or dies, 

All is a dull monotony ; 

Naught but the past he yet can see, 

And that by time is soon obscured, 



53 



64: OMBRA. 

'Til all he felt or has endured 
Becomes a blank and dull and cold 
Again is mold resolved to mold. 
But hark ! From the stilly air above 
Come accents that are those of love, 
And Herdric's eager ears scarce meet 
Them in falling, so low and sweet. 

" Sleepest thou, oh my lover ? 
The voices of the night. 
Around me sweetly hover, 
In the soft living light." 

" What though thy chains may bind thee 
Within a prison cell, 
Soon shall thy love's arms find thee, 
And all will then be well." 

" Good-night, may thy dreaming lonely 
Be sweet as mine of thee ; 
And a heart that loves thee only 
Shall seek to set thee free." 

As sunlight to the wanderer lost, 
As calm unto the tempest-tost, 
As rain to him who travels far 
Where Afric's deserts burning are, 



OMBBA. 55 

These words to Herdric come ; and lie 
At length, in slumber blissfully, 
Pictures the scenes that once were dear, 
And again in freedom seems to hear 
The whispered tale of plighted love. 
With the night birds warbling soft above ! 
And then again he seemed to fight 
For throne, for kingdom, and birth-right ; 
And in his sleep he murmured wild 
Of Zala, and of Zala's child. 
Till wearied of the mimic fight. 
He sinks in dreamless slumber light. 



Time rolleth on. Still Ombra reigns 
And plotting foes with scorn disdains. 
But Zala, queen of earthly charms, 
Remains unsullied by his arms. 
Still as a slave she serves his board, 
Still unto him she bows, her lord. 
But yet apart from all the rest 
She lives not as the harem's guest. 
Nor threats, nor promises avail 
To drag her to his fair serail. 
Till chafed, the king in angry mood, 



66 OMBBA. 

Came to her as alone she stood, 
And spake unto her, trembling there, 
So frighten,ed but divinely fair, 
" This night thou resteth by my side, 
Or morning sees thee Azrael's bride." 
At the midnight hour the moon rose fair. 
But ah ! What sounds affright the air ! 
Fell shrieks of agony and woe, 
That all about the castle go. 
That dully fall and reach the ears 
Of prisoned Herdric, and his fears 
Leap lightning-like, for that dear voice 
Is hers. The loved one of his choice. 
But there he lay enchained and bound ; 
His limbs half rotting on the ground, 
While dull and duller came the sound. 
He gnashed his teeth, he struggled wild, 
He wept alike a little child. . . . 
A sudden burst — a maddened spring — 
The chains fall from him as of string. . . 
He pauses dazed, he scarce can see, 
His flesh is bared from foot to knee ; 
He feels it not, he boundeth high. 
Like uncaged eagle k) the sky. 
Up through the halls he knows so well, 
Where once as monarch he did dwell. 



OMBEA. 57 

Up where the shrieks have sunk to moans, 

And agony of dying groans. 

He bursts the door — ah, well if he 

Content were in his chains to be ! 

For, oh, what sight doth meet his eye ! 

Whence that wild, long, despairing cry ! 

His Zala, still so wondrous fair. 

Upon the ground lies dying there : 

While on the marble floor apart 

Gleamed the dagger that sought her heart. 

Ah, woe for Herdric ! woe for him 

Who watches a loved eye grow dim. 

Who feels the oft-kissed cheek grow cold, 

And knows the body is but mold. 

A moment only Zala lives, 

And her last breath to him she gives. . . . 

But hush ! What is it he doth hear ? 

Why fires his eye, why dries the tear ? 

He stands erect, he breathes a vow. . . , 

Alas ! Alas ! She hears not now. 

A moment only thrills her heart. 

Then all is over — dull death's smart. 

But Herdric o'er her bends to swear 

Her death to 'venge, all things to dare. . . . 

A sneering laugh came through the room, 

And in the weird, death-hallowed gloom 



58 OMBRA. 

An eye looks on with scornful gleam, 
And vanishes ere scarce 'tis seen. 



All ended now is Ombra's reign, 

The rightful monarch rules again ; 

But Ombra's power stretches far 

And many to him gathered are. 

His banner promises to all 

Pillage great from tower and hall ! 

Yet still no battle has been fought 

That gives the mastery each has sought. 

But ah ! a fair sweet summer morn 

Rose on a plain ere night forlorn : 

For all day long was dully heard 

Each swift advancing human herd. 

They come, they come, the echoes far 

Answer from craggy rock and scaur. 

Ever and ever the heavy tread, 

Ever the banners overhead. 

March ! Though death may lead the van ! 

March to die or live who can ! 

What though eyes at home be crying ! 

What though child or wife be dying ! 

Onward ever ! Life is sweet 



OMBRA. 59 

But they must kill ere love they greet. 

Theirs the motto " Do or Die ! " 

In their souls the battle cry. 

Onward with the steady roll 

Of time unto the waiting soul. 

They meet, and now such scenes ensue, 

As pen or pencil never drew. 

Carnage, and cruelty, and blood, 

A corpse where first a man hath stood, 

They fight until the sun goes down ; 

And the grays of eve are turned to brown ; 

But victory favors Herdric's side 

And Ombra's troops flee far and wide : 

He with a few that served him long. 

Flies to a fortress old and strong. 

Now silence falls where carnage led ; 

The wounded suffer 'mong the dead ; 

The dyii;ig cry for help in vain. 

For corpses only mock their pain. 

The vultures feed on bodies dead. 

And wolves ere yet the life is sped : 

And friends and foes are peaceful all 

Where'er the shades of darkness fall. 

But a different scene there is by far. 

Where Ombra's allies gathered are 

In a banquet hall so fair to see, 



60 OMBKA. 

Where sound the strains of minstrelsy, 

While round about the festive board 

The remnants of the conquered horde 

Eat, drink, and merry are, and sing 

Though each hour doth death nearer bring. 

Merry the songs as at marriage bout, 

The rafters echo each joyous shout. 

No thought is now of woe or war, 

Each seeks fell Sorrow's reign to mar. 

But see with solemn step and slow. 

Up through the minstrel ranks doth go 

A woman old, of hideous mien, 

All decked in garments like a queen ; 

Her withered arms clasped, enfold 

A bowl all chased with jewels and gold. 

The diamond bright, and emerald rare, 

And amethyst and pearl are there. 

But in the center like an eye 

Glow'ring on life's sad destiny, 

A ruby was of size like those 

That the celestial walls enclose : 

Its depths as secret as the night, 

Its fires as distant beacon bright. 

Low breathes the music like a wail ; 

Within the hall each cheek blanched pale. 

From out the bowl, they one and all, 



OMBRA. 61 

Fill their cups at Ombra's call. 

They fill and in the vintage gaze 

For death lurked in the liquid haze. 

Then like cicala's evening song, 

Rose a voice that sweet and long, 

Came softly to the waiting ear. 

With words they dread, yet long to hear : 

I bring ye Lethe buried here 

In the sparkling depths of wine ! 
Who drinketh it shall feel no fear, 

Nor never more repine. 

Think not of the love of woman, 

Think not ^ of child or wife, 
Remember the conquering foeman, 

And end yourselves your life. 

So stand with a soul undaunted, 

Drink of the draught I give. 
And the spectres that life have haunted 

Shall cease as ye cease to live. 

Full of dreams is the sleep of Life, 

A dreamless sleep is death ; 
Man's breathings are with sighing rife, 

The grave it hath no breath. 



62 OMBBA. 

Earth hath no bitterest sorrow, 
That may with death compete ; 

And eternity no morrow 
With human woe replete. 

As men rise from a drunken sleep, 

Where night-mares hideous watch do keep, 

They stood. With half unconscious hand 

Each reached to where his cup did stand. 

And gazed into the gleaming bowl 

That held the lethe of the soul. 

Then Ombra rose with solemn mien 

And at his lip a goblet's seen. 

In silence drink they, one and all ; 

And each into a fit did fall ; 

Some sang with wild hilarious mirth, 

Some spoke of her who gave them birth, 

Some babbled of the forest trees. 

Of waving fields, and summer ease. 

While some in musing seemed to stand 

With the love of youth in far home-land; 

But one by one they ceased, and morn 

Shone gayly on the feast forlorn. 

Shone gayly where midst flowers and gold, 

Lay the dead feasters. Now but mould. 

The morn is day ! All's gay and free, 

And death is but a mockery. 



